


The Cob.

by Basingstoke



Series: Matt the Virgin [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Blindness, Canon Disabled Character, Dating, F/M, Family, M/M, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 11:10:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8622295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basingstoke/pseuds/Basingstoke
Summary: Dating in New York. It's complicated even if you're not a superhero.





	

Karen pops her head into Matt's office. She's tired, sweaty, but he can hear the smile in her voice. "It's Friday. Drinks?"

 

He shakes his head. "Better not. I'm in heat and that always encourages people." People always make passes once they're close enough to smell him, but they become incredibly persistent when he's in heat. An alpha man tried to drag him out of the bar by his arm once. Matt had been deciding whether to use force when the bouncer beat him to it. 

 

"Oh my god, you should have said something. We had that alpha walk-in," she says, lowering her voice. 

 

"It's fine, I can handle myself. And it's fine if Foggy hears. He knows all about it."

 

"Oh, I do know all about it. After being friends with Matt for the better part of a decade, I know more than I want to about omega biology, comparative religion, and the ADA," Foggy says

 

"You can never know enough about the ADA," Matt says. "Hater." 

 

Foggy snorts. "Pizza and wine cow behind locked doors?" he says. 

 

"Sure," Matt says. 

 

"Matt's place. We won't all fit in mine," Foggy says cheerfully. 

 

*

 

"So is it a gynecist thing?" Karen asks. She has his arm and they're lagging a little behind Foggy. Omega talk time. 

 

"No. Kind of the opposite. It's a Catholic thing."

 

"Are you serious! But you're a stud, right?"

 

"No."

 

"But the-- _beard_ ," she says, dropping her voice again. 

 

"I don't mind _looking_ like a stud. I wouldn't want an alpha who wants an omega without any rough parts."

 

"Okay, so I know nothing about you," Karen says. "Wow."

 

Matt smiles. "And you? What do you like?" 

 

"Oh, you know, I'm boringly floral." 

 

"Me too. A deep chest, a big voice, and the way they smell."

 

"Yeah," she sighs. "But I like betas too, and betas are, you know, they're safer. Alpha men can be too much." 

 

"I like too much," Matt says. "But I can see why you wouldn't." 

 

"Too much in the personality sense, not the dick. The dick is fine," she giggles. 

 

"Well. I don't have any opinion in that regard. Still a virgin." 

 

She stops dead and socks him in the arm. 

 

"It's true," Matt says. "Catholic. No sex before marriage."

 

" _How_ ," she whispers urgently. 

 

"Heat doesn't mean you have to have sex. It just means you want to have sex. I do this every six months and it hasn't killed me yet." It isn't difficult for him. He wants justice so badly he can taste it like blood in his teeth. He wants a fair life and clarity and truth. Compared to that desire, sexual desire feels like the mild craving for a midnight snack, where you might have an apple or might just ignore it and go to bed. 

 

Thus far he's just gone to bed. So to speak. 

 

"No, it doesn't kill you, it just makes you lose the will to live," Karen says. She takes his arm again. "Foggy is waiting for us." 

 

"He knows, and he thinks I'm crazy too," Matt says. 

 

"You are crazy...religious," she says as they catch back up to Foggy. Matt smiles. He's heard it too many times to be offended. 

 

"I'm not threatened by beautiful omegas talking behind my back," Foggy says. "Just overwhelmingly curious." He's walking backwards, looking at them, but still dodging other pedestrians. A true New Yorker. 

 

"Aww, Foggy, you think I'm pretty?" Matt says with a grin.

 

"I did not know it was possible for a blind man to be vain. You know you're pretty, you just like hearing it," Foggy says. 

 

Matt nods serenely. "Vanity is a sin we all can share."

 

"Karen, do you like red or white? Matt is a snob, so ignore him. He'd blow our entire budget on Chateau Le Pew Pew if I let him." 

 

"That's not a real label," Matt says. 

 

"Red with pizza," Karen says. "Shiraz. I like Black Box, if that's what you meant by wine cow." 

 

Matt sniffs. He doesn't like sweet wine or cheap wine. He can't afford anything he does like, though. His brief flirtation with Elektra spoiled his palate for life. 

 

"See? Ignore him. Shiraz for our new employee. And while I get that, see if you can agree on toppings." 

 

"Peppers and green olives," Matt says before Foggy goes inside. 

 

"No!" Foggy says. He disappears 

 

Karen laughs. She guides him to the side of the sidewalk to wait, so they're not blocking traffic. "I guess you've known each other a long time?" 

 

"We met in undergrad, shared a bathroom. Funny how they won't put different cohorts in the same room, but we can share doors...anyway, apparently I snore and Foggy snores, so our roommates swapped us forcibly."

 

"Oh no," Karen says. 

 

"Probably for the best. He was anti-heat, like you, and I hear that if an omega on the pill is in close quarters with an omega off the pill, you can have a sympathy heat, so that's something to consider." 

 

"Fuck," Karen says. "Okay. Is this a real thing or a rumor?"

 

"I don't know. My roommate bailed before we could find out." 

 

"I really hope that's not a thing. I hate heats." 

 

"They're not that bad." 

 

"Maybe you know different alphas," Karen mutters.

 

Matt covers her hand. "Maybe." 

 

Foggy emerges with the box of wine and they start walking again. "Okay! May I commend you on your startlingly reasonable taste, Karen. What do you like on pizza?" 

 

"Peppers and green olives," she says. Loyalty. He likes that. 

 

"No!" Foggy says. "It's not a pizza without pepperoni!" 

 

"The origins of pizza--" Matt starts, but Foggy shushes him with a flurry of hand flaps and tsking. 

 

Foggy sighs. "Half pepperoni," he says. "All peppers. Other half olives. Okay?" 

 

"One third--" Matt starts. 

 

"Objection! Counselor, you know damn well they won't do that. And watch the fire hydrant." 

 

"Oops," Karen says, moving them over. 

 

"It is hilarious but mean to make Matt rack himself on a hydrant," Foggy says. "I would probably be forced to fire you." 

 

"Probably?" Matt says. 

 

"Wellll, I don't want to do the filing, and you _can't_ do the filing." 

 

"Why is why you should learn Braille, so we can unify the paperwork." 

 

"Then you'll do the filing? Okay. Karen, you're fired as soon as I learn Braille."

 

"Damn," Karen says. 

 

"I wouldn't worry too much," Foggy stage whispers. "I have meat hands." 

 

Karen giggles. It's a nice sound. Matt likes her voice; it's soft, comfortable. He likes her hand on his arm, too, the way she rests it on his sleeve and doesn't grab. 

 

Foggy fishes his phone out of his pocket. "Hey! Hi, cuz. Yeah, we opened up the office. Even hired someone. We're buying her dinner, so, extra large, peppers on the whole thing, green olives on half, pepperoni on half. Family discount. Cuz. Cuz. Cuz. Cuz. I will tell Grandma. That's right. See you in ten. Love you too." 

 

"How many cousins do you have, Foggy? I think that's the twentieth family discount you've called in this year," Matt says. 

 

"I've been saving them up. And, uh, ten Nelsons, three Chaudharys, four Smyznyaks, they're second cousins, Rod with the pizza place, he's my uncle's wife's son, you met him before. Um, and then Brett and his sister--" 

 

"You're not related to Brett," Matt says. 

 

"Play cousin. Our grandmothers worked in the same hospital for forty years, so that's like being related. And then the Davies when Grandma isn't fighting with them. Five of them." 

 

"Twenty-three," Karen says. She's been counting on her fingers. 

 

"That sounds about right," Foggy says. 

 

There are times when Matt is deeply jealous of Foggy. 

 

"Most of us are small business owners of one sort or another, so, Karen, I'll give you a list. If something comes up and you don't call them first, Grandma will have words." 

 

"Oh," Matt says. "You don't want his grandmother to have words." 

 

"No, I know all about grandmothers and words," Karen says. 

 

"We need to cross here," Foggy says. "Matt, hold up your cane so the cabbies feel bad if they hit us."

 

"I've been cussed out by too many taxi drivers to think they would feel bad." He tracks cars constantly, absently, making sure they stop when the light turns. He's never been hit, but it's been close. 

 

"You keep hailing them and not getting in," Foggy says. "That makes them swear. We can cross." 

 

Matt starts across, Karen still at his side, Foggy ahead of them. "I can't see if they're in service," Matt says. "So I don't know if they're pulling over or just stopping in traffic until they call me a motherfucker." 

 

"Bunch of savages," Foggy says. "Curb." 

 

Matt steps up without a hitch. "Do you have family, Karen?" he asks. 

 

"No. Just me. You?" 

 

"Just me." 

 

"It sucks," Karen says softly. 

 

"Yeah." 

 

"I'll sell you a cousin for a dollar," Foggy says. "Not Rod, though, he makes a mean pie. Next block down on the right--whoa!" 

 

Matt jumps as he hears something overhead, so loud the sound shudders through his body. "Was that a plane?" 

 

"Iron Man!" Foggy says. 

 

"I've never seen him before," Karen says. 

 

"He flies around sometimes!"

 

"He's loud enough," Matt says. 

 

"He's circling around! He's--wait, I think he's coming down, guys--" and Foggy takes Matt's other arm and pushes both him and Karen up against the brick wall. 

 

Stark's landing is so loud that Matt can't even place him, it's just a vortex of noise. It cuts off abruptly, leaving behind only a thin electronic whine and heavy footsteps concussing through the pavement. 

 

"Scientifically," Stark says, "you are the most beautiful woman in three square blocks. Very symmetrical. Congratulations. Have a flower." 

 

"Uh. Thanks?" Karen says. 

 

"Though you're cute too, Shades," Stark says. There's something coming at his face. Matt can't hide his flinch as something touches his chin. 

 

Then Stark takes off again, in a nightmarish burst of machine noise. Matt winces back against the brick. 

 

"Did Iron Man seriously just land to flirt with you two? Unbelievable," Foggy says. "I thought we were about to get attacked by robots or something." 

 

"Look what he gave me. Matt, feel what he gave me. It's a rose made of gold, I think." She touches something to his hand and he jerks. "Sorry, did I poke you?" 

 

"No, I'm just--it was loud. Did he just chuck me under my chin?" 

 

"He did," Karen says. 

 

"Of course," Matt mutters. He frees his arms to rub at his ears. The world is coming back into focus: the hum of cars in the street, the whisper of Foggy's clothes and Karen's, the beat of heels on the sidewalk, the dull echo that indicates a brick wall behind him. He takes a deep breath and reaches out his hand. "I'd love to see what he gave you." 

 

Karen puts the flower in his hand. It's simple, abstract, streamlined curves, like the dream of a flower. It's exquisite. 

 

He can't stop touching it, running his fingers along its lines, until he snaps back to himself. "I'm sorry," he says, giving it back to Karen. "It's beautiful." 

 

"It really is. I want to say you should keep it, because you had such a great look on your face, but--" 

 

"He gave it to you. No regifting." Matt smiles. 

 

"And it's the nicest thing I have." 

 

"Probably worth a fortune. He signed it under the leaf, if you take a look, so it can be authenticated as a Stark piece." 

 

He can feel her shift as she looks at it. "Oh wow! You can feel that? It's so tiny!" 

 

"Yeah. Like reading Braille. Let's go, the pizza should be ready."

 

Foggy leads them the rest of the way to his cousin's shop. Matt tries to give his ears a rest and focuses on smell, instead; Karen's shampoo, Foggy's detergent, the product in Foggy's hair, the familiar smell of Foggy's skin and the new smell of Karen's, over the ever-present garbage and motor oil that he only notices if he tries. He can smell the pizza shop long before they reach it, alongside Greek food, Korean, and the subtle vinegar scent of sushi. 

 

The pepperoni smell is overwhelming at the shop itself. This is why Matt doesn't take pepperoni on his pizza; it already tastes like pepperoni, so adding more is just overkill. Plus, he likes olives, and green peppers are a vegetable. 

 

Foggy strides in. "Rod! How are you?" 

 

"Foggy. It's good." Matt heard another man clap Foggy on the shoulder. "Hi, Matt." 

 

"Hi," Matt says. That's right; they met before, at graduation. 

 

"He's holding out his hand," Foggy says. 

 

"Sorry," Matt and Rod both say. Matt holds out his hand. He honestly hadn't noticed Rod's movement. He's not on his best game right now. 

 

Rod takes his hand and doesn't quite shake it. Rod has large, strong hands; he smells of rising yeast and sweat and garlic. It's pleasant. Matt listens to the sounds of his clothes and he can tell that Rod is a little taller, a lot broader, and an alpha. Padded around the waist. Big feet, short hair. Very appealing. 

 

"And this is Karen, our new assistant." 

 

Rod lets go of Matt's hand reluctantly. "Hi. Nice to meet you." 

 

"You too," Karen says. 

 

"So how much? With the family discount," Foggy says. 

 

"Twenty. Family and friends discount," Rod says. 

 

"Cuz! That's the spirit." 

 

Matt hears Foggy and Rod move back to the cash register and Karen lean into his body. "Total lion," she murmurs. 

 

"I can tell from his hand," Matt murmurs back. " _Broad_. And he smells good." 

 

"How are you _in heat_ and not jumping on his back like a spider monkey?" she whispers. 

 

" _Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum_ \--" 

 

She giggles and elbows him. 

 

"Okay! And let's get a cab before Iron Man comes back and steals a slice," Foggy says. 

 

"Bye, Matt! Karen," Rod says. Matt waves. 

 

Outside, Foggy starts waving for a cab. "Utterly shameless," he says. "Do you want his number? He's single." 

 

"I don't know," Matt says. "Is he Catholic?" 

 

"I'm pretty sure he would convert," Karen says. 

 

"I'll consider it," Matt lies. He's not looking for a husband. It's not the right time. And he's not going to share his body with anyone he wouldn't propose to. 

 

"Hey! Let me sit in front and my friends in back, okay? Want a slice?" Foggy says to the cabbie. "Best in the city." 

 

Karen gets into the taxi and pulls Matt in after. The smell of the pizza has already filled the cab. The cabbie will never guess there was an omega in heat in the car. Foggy is a clever man. 

 

"Thanks, man. That's good!" the driver says. 

 

"Giugliotti's. We just left there. Tell everyone. Quality ingredients, reasonably priced." 

 

The driver laughs. "Sure." 

 

Matt smiles and listens to Foggy chatter. It's his favorite sound in the world, and he hears it every day. 

 

*

 

Years later, after Frank, after Bullseye, after Matt's apartment and his life have been blown up, after he has been shattered and reformed, when his muscles ache with scars and he no longer knows what justice looks like, Matt is sitting at his desk and considering the fact of mortality. 

 

"Hey, what's that face?" Foggy says. 

 

"Old scars. It's going to rain." 

 

"Wait, are you actually admitting to pain? Is your head about to fall off?" 

 

"My arm might. It's my right shoulder." He turns his palm up helplessly; what's done is done. "Doc says I'm looking at a joint replacement." 

 

"Already?" Foggy moves into his personal space and rests one hand on his shoulder, letting him know he's there, before rubbing the muscle between shoulder and neck. Matt sighs slightly. 

 

"I lead a high-impact lifestyle. You'll like this, by the way; she's a superhero specialist. I got her name from Stark." 

 

Foggy laughs. "Does she have an underground office with a sewer entrance?" 

 

"She makes house calls. Her assistant is a mutant who casts illusions. They wear a different face every day, so they can't be followed." 

 

"You're making that up," Foggy says. He digs his knuckles into Matt's neck on either side of his spine. 

 

"Completely, one hundred percent true. I'd tell you her name but that would spoil the point." He takes his glasses off. "I should ask if she handles maternity." 

 

Foggy stops. "Maternity? Are you knocked up, buddy?" He starts rubbing Matt's shoulder again, but more gently. 

 

"Not unless the Archangel Gabriel appeared to me in disguise. I did dream that I was flying the other night, but I was also punching the Kingpin in the face, so that doesn't seem terribly holy." 

 

"I don't know. God hates a bully. You can see when you dream, right?" 

 

"Yeah," Matt says. "I think I can, anyway. I don't really remember what it's like." He has the fading impression of light and movement, though, right before he wakes up into charcoal gray. 

 

"So could you see the Kingpin in your dream?" 

 

He has to think about that. "I have a mental picture of people," he says finally. "I know your size and the way you move, the way you smell and sound. I know what I've been told about you, that you have blond hair and blue eyes. So I see you, in a way. And that's what I see in my dreams."

 

"You are endlessly interesting, my friend," Foggy says. "Now what's this about maternity?" 

 

"I think it might be time," Matt says. 

 

Foggy's hands stop. "Time? As in, to stop being Daredevil, go on dates, and find you a good alpha?" 

 

"Basically." 

 

"My cousin Rod still has a crush on you." 

 

"I know." He smiles. "Go ahead and get me his number." 

 

*

 

He always notices Rod. Rod smells pleasantly of garlic. His hands are strong. The padding around his waist keeps growing, but Matt likes a soft, thick waist, easy to touch and radiating safety and contentment. 

 

Rod invites him to dinner at his house, not a restaurant. "Because you can't read the menu, so--what's the point, when I can make anything you want. As long as it's Italian," Rod says. "Do you like Italian?" 

 

"I like Italian," Matt answers. He is helplessly charmed. 

 

"I'll make you bread salad with fresh tomato and basil. And meatballs. Not with spaghetti, that's how Americans do it, but real Italian meatballs." 

 

"That sounds great," Matt says, grinning. 

 

"It's going to be great. I mean, I hope it will be great. I hope you like it. So I'll see you Friday?" 

 

"Friday," Matt agrees. "Bye." 

 

"YES," Foggy crows when Matt hangs up. "The virgin rides out!" 

 

"Shut the fuck up," Matt says. 

 

*

 

And it's very nice. Rodney is an eager, earnest man who deserves a doting wife. 

 

He's too earnest, too honest, too sweet. Matt can't imagine telling him about Daredevil. 

 

They don't have a future together. The itching under his skin is too strong. Matt puts his costume on as soon as he gets home from the date. 

 

*

 

Foggy literally screams when Matt tells him so. "MATT. OH MY GOD. Just, get some, JUST GET SOME." 

 

"That's not the point of this." 

 

"How do you know what you want if you've never had it?" 

 

"Don't tell me to sin against God." 

 

"Like you give a SHIT about sin! Let's start with telling falsehoods and move on to breaking necks!" 

 

Matt flips the table. It goes downhill from there. 

 

*

 

Later, once Karen sits them on her couch and plies them with whiskey, Foggy says, "I get it, I do. I just. I wish. You could calm down." He presses a wet washcloth to his eye. 

 

"I nearly had the Punisher's baby," Matt says. 

 

"Interesting life choice," Karen says. 

 

"Matt," Foggy says. 

 

"He was in town while I was in heat. I thought he might stop if I gave him a new life." 

 

"You're still not on the pill?! You're out all the time fighting these assholes and you're not on the pill?" Foggy collapses back into the couch.

 

"It almost worked. Nothing can stop him but him, just like nothing can stop me but me. And what does it matter if I'm on the pill or not?" 

 

"You could--you know what, I'm just going to stop there." Foggy hisses between his teeth. "I hate this so much. I hate thinking about you getting hurt." 

 

"I get hurt and I get up. I have since before you knew me. Since I was a child. Get knocked down six times and get up seven. I'm a Murdock," Matt says. 

 

"Couldn't you sign on to the Sokovia accords?" 

 

"And ask the UN before I stop a mugger? No." 

 

Foggy sighs. 

 

"Words, not grunts, Foggy Bear," Karen says. 

 

"I deeply regret introducing you to Marci," Foggy says. "Okay. I love Matt. Matt, I love you, and I want you to be alive and...not happy, I won't ask for happy from a Catholic, but not suicidal. That's what I want." 

 

"I _am_ alive and not suicidal." 

 

"I'm not convinced," Foggy says. 

 

"Want me to breathe in your ear?" 

 

"Hug it out," Karen says. Foggy immediately turns and grabs Matt into a hug. The wet washcloth drips onto his shoulder. Matt hugs back. 

 

"Every time I hit back, I'm trying not to die," Matt says into his ear. "And I hit hard." 

 

"Yeah, you do," Foggy sighs. 

 

"I'm sorry for that." Foggy didn't deserve that punch. "I tried to aim away from your teeth." 

 

"Teeth intact," Foggy says, and Matt relaxes into his arms. 

 

Foggy stops pushing Rod at him, and Rod accepts his "it's just not right, sorry" speech (which Matt gives in person because he's not a monster, and he embraces Rod and accepts a goodbye kiss and breathes in his strong, healthy, _good_ scent and wishes for a moment that he were someone else, but he's not), and things are okay. 

 

*

 

He's on patrol when he has to call the Avengers. He has the number programmed into his phone, because he's not an idiot, but it does sting, knowing that some things are too big for him to handle. 

 

A pleasant robot with a female voice answers the line. "Avengers Hotline. Please state your business." 

 

"This is Daredevil. I have located a party of seven Asgardians in the middle of Hell's Kitchen." 

 

"Please hold," the robot says. Matt holds. 

 

"So! Daredevil," Tony Stark says. Matt doesn't groan, but it's an effort. He'd thought Stark was finally off the team. "I'm not so sure about you. I haven't had a good history with men who wear horns." 

 

"I have discovered a party of seven Asgardians," Matt repeats.

 

"Yeah, that's what Friday said. How is this a problem? Thor's a mensch." 

 

"Loki wasn't. I've been listening to them and it sounds like they want to see what Thor likes so much about New York. They arrived not long ago--" 

 

"And that is a question in itself, because we should have detected the Rainbow Bridge," Stark interrupts. 

 

"At least one of them is a magic user." He keeps hearing _spell_ and _raven_ and _Yggdrasil_ , which adds up to nothing good. 

 

"Fuck me in the ear. Friday, get Stephen Strange on the line."

 

"Sh--they're talking," Matt says, and he focuses on the garage below. 

 

"Friends! My eagle reports that he has found us horses! Let us away!" 

 

"They're moving. I'll follow," Matt says. 

 

"Don't engage. Thor can squish you like a bug even without the hammer." 

 

"Why do you think I called you? They're going to get horses. That's either Central Park or mounted police." 

 

"Stay on the line. Put the phone in your pocket if you have to but leave it on. It'll help us locate you and Friday will let me know if something goes south. Be there in ten." 

 

Matt doesn't answer; he's running full out across the rooftops. 

 

He doesn't have far to go. They found the police stables. Not good. He picks up the phone. "They're at Mercedes House. The mounted police are on the ground floor and the rest is residential," Matt says. 

 

"--Vision, take Hulk--I read that, Diablo, ETA five minutes, or as soon as Wanda finds her shoes, let's go--" 

 

The building has a lounge area and pool above the stables, with the bulk of the building rising beside it. Matt crouches in the shadow of a patio umbrella and listens. "They're entering the stable. Don't answer," he whispers into the phone. He can distinguish the tread as they spread out along the building frontage. 

 

"What a strange place. What manner of stable is this? Ho! Come out and show us your wares!" the lead woman shouts. 

 

Matt can hear stirring inside the building: a horse nickering and at least two people moving around. Twenty police are stationed here, if he recalls correctly. 

 

Someone punches the door and breaks the lock. The sound of horses becomes louder as they throw the doors open. "Hey!" shouts one of the police. 

 

"Ah! The stable man. We wish to buy your horses." 

 

"You will be richly recompensed," another Asgardian says. 

 

Matt hears Iron Man incoming and takes the focus off his hearing quickly. He hates that sound, and it's different every time, as Iron Man wears different suits or alters the engines. He can never become inured to it. 

 

Iron Man, Captain Marvel, and Scarlet Witch land on the road. Vision, carrying She-Hulk, lands beside Matt. "Good evening," Vision says quietly. Matt nods. She-Hulk nods in return. 

 

"Hi! Welcome to Earth," Iron Man says. His heavy footsteps tromp into the stable. She-Hulk leans her elbows on the ledge and looks down. Vision just looks through the roof. 

 

"Man of Iron, Defender of Midgard." 

 

"Hail," one Asgardian says, sounding sulky as a teenager. 

 

"Are you looking for Thor?" 

 

"No. He is in Asgard," the first voice says. "We are exploring Midgard as our parents did." 

 

"Kids. Fuck," She-Hulk breathes. 

 

"An Asgardian is considered a child well into their five hundredth year," Vision says. 

 

"Kids are kids no matter what the age. Unpredictable," She-Hulk says. 

 

"Well, you're in a police station. Those are police horses. Do you know what police are?" Captain Marvel says. 

 

The Asgardians mutter to each other. "No?" one says. 

 

"Police are the guards of our cities," Captain Marvel says. "Those are trained war horses. You can't walk in and buy them." 

 

"We are warriors worthy of the best horses!" 

 

"We are mighty!" 

 

"We must have the proper transportation!" 

 

Which gives Matt an idea. He vaults over the ledge and lands on the sidewalk below. "Velocipedes!" he calls out. 

 

Everyone--heroes, Asgardians, and a couple of police--turns to look at him. "Velocipedes," he repeats, walking into the stables. "The most valiant and bravest among us ride velocipedes. Machines with two wheels, unprotected from the other machines on our roads. They are powered by the strength of your body. Messengers ride them, and the bravest and most vital youths." He is desperately thinking of Thor's press conferences, trying to emulate the cadence. 

 

"Huh," Stark says. "Velocipedes. He's right, they're only for the strong." 

 

"I'm not familiar with that word," one Asgardian says. 

 

"They don't exist on Asgard, only on Midgard," Matt says. 

 

"It would be more of a challenge to master a new mount," another Asgardian says. 

 

The female in the center nods. "Thank you, good bearer. Bring to us these velocipedes!" 

 

"I will, as quickly as I can," Matt says, and he calls Foggy. 

 

"Matt? What's up?" 

 

"Your cousin, the bike messenger--" 

 

"Cousin's kid--" 

 

"I need him to call six of his friends and bring their bikes to Mercedes House immediately. Stark is going to buy them," Matt says quickly and quietly. 

 

"Tony Stark?" 

 

"Yeah. So have them set Stark prices. Fast as they can." 

 

"Well, that is fucking fast. Give me thirty." 

 

"Ten if you can." Matt hangs up. He spreads his arms. "The road warriors are coming and will provide you with their personal velocipedes!" he calls out. 

 

"Until then, ale!" Stark says. "There is an alehouse across the road. It would be my pleasure to be your host."

 

The kids look at each other. "We would be honored," the lead female says. She starts to leave, but stops. "For the door," she says, handing one cop a gold coin. She then stalks out of the stable, followed by the other kids and the Avengers. 

 

Stark retracts his helmet before he passes Matt. "Smartass," he whispers. 

 

"You're goddamn right," Matt says. "I'll wait here for the road warriors." 

 

The Asgardians cross the street with a swish of capes. One cop snorts. "Road warriors, huh?" 

 

"Bike messengers. Ever tried to arrest one? They're mean." 

 

She laughs. "True, man, true. Were you following them? Timing was pretty good." 

 

"Yeah. Sorry I couldn't stop them sooner." 

 

"Are you kidding me? Ken, look up the exchange rate for an Asgardian, uh, I don't even know what you call this thing, but it's got a raven on it and it weighs a goddamn ton. We'll fix that lock and get Suzy some 36-inch Yaki for her tail." 

 

Matt grins. He salutes them casually and leaves them to it. 

 

Vision and She-Hulk descend to the sidewalk once he emerges and closes the door behind him. 

 

"That was well thought out," Vision says. 

 

"You tricky bitch," She-Hulk says. She holds out her hand. "Jennifer Walters." 

 

"Daredevil," Matt says, and shakes her hand. 

 

"Oh, come on." He can hear her smiling. "I know who you are." 

 

"The allegation that the individual operating under the name of Daredevil is one and the same as Matthew Murdock, respected criminal defense attorney, was never proven in a court of law," Matt says. 

 

"I can see through your mask," Vision says. 

 

"Eyewitness testimony is notoriously unreliable," Matt says. 

 

"I should have said Jennifer Walters, Esquire," She-Hulk says. "Here's my card. We should get drinks some time." 

 

Matt pockets the card. His phone vibrates. "Excuse me," he says, and answers it. 

 

"Incoming," Foggy says. "They want ten grand apiece." 

 

"Sounds good to me." 

 

"How does it sound to Stark?" 

 

"He's not here."

 

"Take video or something. This sounds like fun." 

 

"No video! Superhero code," Matt says. "But I'll tell you all about it later." 

 

"God, yes," Foggy says. "Stop by." He hangs up. 

 

A few minutes later, the road warriors arrive. A perfumed boy, a sweaty girl, a boy with long braids, a tiny bald girl, a pierced girl, a broad girl smelling of hair dye and weed, and Dev, an unmistakeable Nelson. Matt raises his hand. 

 

"Hey! Dev Nelson. You know my uncle? That's so cool!" Dev says. His pierced lip clicks off his teeth. 

 

"I know everyone in Hell's Kitchen. And I know that Nelsons get the job done," Matt says. "He said you want ten grand apiece?" 

 

"Definitely," the bald girl says. 

 

"Come on in. Let me talk." Matt gestures them inside. 

 

The Avengers and the Asgardians are lined up at the bar. Smashed glasses ring the Asgardians' chairs. Captain Marvel turns as Matt enters. 

 

"These are the road warriors," Matt says. Dev stifles a giggle behind his hand. "They brave the byways of Midgard bearing messages between the powerful of the realm on their custom-made velocipedes. They are willing to grant you their machines so that you may explore our realm. In return, they ask that you do so peacefully and without violence, because violence is against the laws of our land." 

 

The lead female stands. "I am Baduhenna of the Valkyrie," she says. "Who among you is the leader?" 

 

Dev steps forward. "Jeremy Dvorak Nelson." 

 

Baduhenna pounds her shoulder. "I thank you, Son of Nel. I and my companions gladly accept these terms. Please show us these machines." 

 

"Oh my god, oh my god," Dev whispers. 

 

"You're doing great," Matt murmurs in return. Truthfully, he's not entirely sure what will happen when the Asgardians see the bikes. 

 

But it goes...well. "They are like unto the skeletons of horses, but they are constructs," one of the kids says, sounding awed. 

 

"They are machines of great elegance," another says. 

 

"Okay, those are pretty sick as bikes go," Stark says, standing in the back with his arms crossed. "Maybe I should get into this business." 

 

"Focus," Captain Marvel tells him. 

 

Dev and the other bike messengers show the Asgardians how to operate the pedals, brakes, and gears. Matt wishes, intently, that he could see what a fully armored alien warrior looks like on a street bike. It must be either regal or ridiculous. 

 

"Farewell, Iron Warrior, Masked Bearer, Son of Nel. We thank you for your assistance. We shall meet again as friends." Baduhenna raises her hand and the kids pedal off. 

 

"I placed trackers on the bicycles," Vision says after a beat. 

 

"Figured you would," Stark says. 

 

"That was awesome!" a messenger says, and all the messengers collapse into hysterical giggles, hugging and high-fiving each other. 

 

"Ten grand apiece," Matt tells Stark. "They need it now. They live paycheck to paycheck, and their paychecks just rolled away." 

 

"Worth it just to see Junior Thor on a bicycle. Children! Give me your names and I'll put it in your bank account." 

 

"I don't have a bank account," the perfumed boy says. 

 

"Then I will make you a bank account and buy you a book on financial management, knucklehead," Stark says, walking over. 

 

Matt turns away to plot his route. Foggy will kill him if he doesn't stop by and tell him about it. She-Hulk stops him, though, with a hand on his shoulder. "Mind if I'm forward?" she says. 

 

She smells like alpha and coconut oil. She's taller and broader than him, and she knows who he is, and she's green. "Not at all," he says. 

 

"I'd love to buy you that drink." 

 

"I'd love to accept." 

 

"Friday?" 

 

"If nothing pops off," Matt says. 

 

*

 

"Cuz says thanks for thinking of him," Foggy says. 

 

"Always ask a Nelson first," Matt says. He shoves his costume into the duffel bag he keeps at Foggy's place. "I didn't even throw a punch today." 

 

"Woo! I'm waving my hands in the air," Foggy says. 

 

Matt smiles. "And I got a date." 

 

"Oh really? With who? Not Stark." 

 

"Jesus, no," Matt says. "With She-Hulk. She's a lawyer too. Her name is Jennifer." 

 

"I know," Foggy says. "Only so many green lawyers in New York. Or the world. Nice job, she seems like your type." 

 

"Oh? What is my type?" 

 

"Big, strong, good-looking alpha. I bet she smells good too." 

 

"I'm not going to tell you how she smells." 

 

"She definitely smells amazing. I'm glad for you. Do you think your babies will be green?" 

 

Matt shrugs. "All the same to me." 

 

"If anyone has green babies, it should be you," Foggy says. 

 

"Is that an insult?" 

 

"I'm not sure," Foggy says. "I mean it though." 

 

*

 

Matt arrives first at Pulido's. He smiles at the host. "I'm waiting for an alpha," he says. "She's very noticeable." 

 

He nurses a beer for fifteen minutes before Jennifer arrives. "You're adorable out of the mask," she says into his ear. 

 

"Thank you. You smell delightful," he replies. 

 

"You're really blind?" 

 

"I'm really blind." 

 

"So...magic?" 

 

"Skill," Matt says. 

 

"Hm," Jennifer says, and she sounds like she's smiling. "Our table is ready." 

 

"Give me your arm?" 

 

"Sure." She takes his hand gently and places it in her elbow. 

 

"I can navigate a full restaurant if I concentrate, but right now I'd rather think about you," Matt says. Jen laughs. 

 

She pulls his chair out for him at the table, and the waiter provides him with a Braille menu, so he's in an excellent mood when they sit down together. "So tell me," Matt says. "Is Stark always a cock?" 

 

Jen laughs loudly. "Yes! Yes, he is. But he grows on you." 

 

"He hit on me the first time we met--no, actually, he hit on my friend, and threw me a 'you're cute too' on the side." 

 

Jen hisses. "Ouch." 

 

"Not that I want to be street harassed…though you know, I can never tell if catcallers are talking to me. I would hate to turn around and smack someone who's actually talking on the phone," Matt says. 

 

"The struggle is real." 

 

The waiter returns with water glasses and takes their drink orders. Jennifer orders wine; Matt stays with beer. He still doesn't have a taste for wine. "And the alligator pierogi appetizer," Matt says. 

 

"Oh, shit, I didn't even look. That sounds amazing. Same," Jen says. 

 

"Do you need a minute to choose entrees?" the waiter asks. 

 

"I do," Jen says. "My date is too cute." 

 

Matt smiles. He reads the menu with one hand as the waiter departs again. "I should warn you I'm getting a burger," he says. "In case you find an appetite to be unbecoming of an omega." 

 

"People actually say that?" 

 

"People actually say that."

 

"I don't know why I'm surprised. I've been hearing shit about female alphas my whole life, so why should omegas have it any easier?" 

 

"Does anyone have it easy?" 

 

"No," Jen says. "People are terrible. We should live in the woods." 

 

"Not until I can sue trees into ADA compliance," Matt says, and Jen laughs. 

 

*

 

It's perfect for two months. Jennifer is everything he could want in a mate. 

 

She is everything he thinks he wants. 

 

She is not the person he wants. 

 

*

 

Matt bids their assistant goodnight, then stands in Foggy's door. 

 

"What's up?" Foggy says. "Oh no. What is that face. I don't like that face." 

 

Matt takes off his glasses. 

 

"I like that face less. Matt, what did you do?" 

 

"I broke up with Jennifer," Matt says. 

 

Foggy groans. "Matt! Why? She's perfect!" 

 

"She's great. We're still going to be friends. She said to call her any time I need backup." 

 

"Matt, you're killing me. Why?" Foggy gets up and takes his shoulders. Matt lets Foggy shake him lightly. "She's brilliant, she's a superhero, she's an _Avenger_. She's your type! Granted, she clashes with your favorite color, but you can't see, so who cares! What is your problem?" 

 

"She's not you," Matt says. 

 

Foggy freezes. He swallows, loudly. 

 

"She's not you," Matt repeats. "She hasn't been here, by my side, all these years. She didn't bitch me out when I was nearly killed by ninjas. She didn't keep me out of jail when the Kingpin framed me. She doesn't bring me to Thanksgiving and Christmas every year." 

 

"Matt," Foggy says softly. 

 

"She didn't earn the Punisher reasonable doubt. You were amazing, Foggy, when I was fucking up. She didn't track me down when I was trapped by Venom. She isn't the first person I think of every day, Foggy, that's you, and it always has been. Even when it didn't seem like it. Even when we were apart. It took me a long time to realize what that means, but it means that I would really like you to kiss me, Foggy. If." He swallows. "If you want to." 

 

"Matt." Foggy's heart is pounding in his chest. His cheeks are warming. Matt doesn't know if it's attraction or panic. "I'm not your type." 

 

"That's fine, I can't see you," Matt says. 

 

"I know what you like and it's not me. You like alphas, you like big shoulders--I'm the same height as you, I'm a basic cob--" 

 

"I like the way you smell," Matt says. "You always apologize in the summer, when you sweat, but I like it, I always have liked it, you smell like you and it smells like home. I like the way you touch me, the way you take my hand, the way you take my shoulder. I like your voice. I love your voice. Your voice could bring me out of a coma, just tell me to come back and I'll come. I love your hair and that you're not afraid to look soft. I love that you keep going when you're afraid." He stops, abruptly breathless.

 

Foggy is still holding his shoulders. He can feel Foggy's breath stirring the air, can smell him, can hear his heartbeat and the way he swallows, can feel his warmth, and it's the best feeling in the world. He wants to come home to this. He wants to feel this all the time. And that's nothing he's ever felt for anyone else. 

 

"I am afraid," Foggy says. "I'm afraid you'll change your mind." 

 

"But you keep going anyway, you always do. And me, I'm stubborn. Once I know what I want, I don't let anything stop me."

 

"I don't want you to regret me." 

 

"I have _never_ regretted you. I only regret the times I didn't let you in. Please marry me," Matt says. 

 

"Oh, shit, Matt, of course I'll marry you," Foggy says, and when he kisses him, the city stops, just for a moment. 

*

 

end.


End file.
